Without even realizing where I am headed, I find myself standing outside The Foundry Taproom, a local bar that Charlie and I were semi-regulars at. It’s close enough to the apartment that we found ourselves here whenever we wanted good, inexpensive food and beer straight from the tap.
I hesitate a beat before deciding not to fight the pull. I step inside, surprised at how busy the place is so early in the afternoon. The ambient noise washes over me—robustconversation and laughter, and the low thrum of easy rock music—as I make my way across the scuffed wooden floors to the bar.
The bartender—a greasy guy with a thick beard—does a double-take as I slide onto a cracked leather stool in front of him.
“Beer, please. Whatever’s good.”
He narrows his eyes but, after a moment, nods, silently grabbing a smudged glass and filling it to the top. He slides it across the bar to me, and I fumble for my wallet, already deciding that I’m not having more than one—not after last night. I slap some notes on the counter just as a hand lands on my shoulder.
“Fancy seeing you here,” a voice booms in my ear. “Didn’t think the old ball and chain would let you loose two nights in a row.” I slide a look at Jack, shrugging his hand off. He doesn’t notice, already ordering a drink before looking at me again. “You should’ve called. I would have come down earlier.”
He takes the stool next to me. As he turns to me, he finally catches a good look at my face. The grin slides right off his mouth.
“Dude, what the fuck? You look like you’ve been knocked in the face with a concrete block. What the hell happened to you?”
I reach up, probing at the swollen, tender skin around my nose and eyes with a grimace. Honestly, I almost forgot Barrett’s gentle treatment, the dull ache of it just kind of blending into everything else.Explains the look the bartender gave me.
“Not far off the truth,” I mutter to Jack, looking down at my beer, wishing the drink had some answers for me. “Not really up for company tonight, man.”
He splutters out a laugh. “You can’t turn up with a face like that and expect me not to ask questions.” Jack tips his chin when the bartender puts a beer in front of him, waiting for him to move out of earshot before leaning closer, asking, “Are you embarrassed? Is that it?”
I flick him a bemused look. “Embarrassed about what?”
“I don’t know.” Jack shrugs, angling his body toward me and resting his elbow against the bar. “Maybe you walked into a pole or some shit. I can’t think of another reason why you wouldn’t just tell me what”—he lifts a finger, making a circular motion around my face—“this is about.”
“Leave it alone,” I grunt, looking away from him and raising my beer to my lips. He must sense just how on edge I am, because he lifts out a palm in surrender before picking up his own beer.
“Alright,” Jack agrees after he takes a sip. “Why don’t you tell me what happened last night, then?”
I drop my chin to my chest with a groan, frustration beating at me, because if there’s something else I really don’t want to fucking talk about…it’s last night. His eyes are on me, curiosity blazing. I pretend I don’t notice.
“Oh, come off it, man. Charlie just disappears without a word, and you’ve got nothing to say about it? It was obvious you had no idea where she went. You didn’t get off your phone once you realized she wasn’t coming back, and then you just left, right in the middle of a conversation.” Jack pauses, clearly waiting for me to fill in the silence. I press my lips together. He shakes his head, blowing out a breath. “If she does that all the time, I gotta say…It’s fucked. Not even letting you know she was taking off?” I look up at Jack then, catching the smirk playing on his lips. “Didn’t think she was the type, honestly. Guess you never know with some girls. It’s the quiet ones, yeah?” He bobs his eyebrows suggestively, a bark of laughter bursting out of him.
My fingers tightens around my glass. “Didn’t think she was what type?”
“You know…” He flaps a hand around his head. “The type to play bullshit games. I mean, we all figured she was leading you round by the balls, and last night, we reallysawit.”
My knuckles go white. “Shut up, Jack.”
The fact that he’s so unconcerned, so sure she just took off, rather than asking if she is okay, says everything about him. I wonder if he’s always been this much of an asshole, and I just never noticed.And if he has…
It sends a pit into my stomach, wondering what it says about me that he—and Bliss—are some of my closest friends. Bliss was the one to start in on Charlie.
She’s the first one to start shit, but then the rest of us just go along with it, laughing like we’ve never heard anything funnier. I laughed last night—Charlieheardme laugh—but I didn’t think Bliss was funny.
Did I?
A shoulder bumps into mine, Jack unbothered by my moody silence. “What happened to her, then?”
I swallow thickly, fighting down a surge of anger, knowing that Jack might be an easy target, but going after him won’t help. He might’ve been an asshole last night, talking loads of shit, but what happened isn’t his fault. Not really.
“She came out of the bathroom,” I say stiffly. “And heard…”
“What?”
“Fuck.” I scrub a hand over my face, swigging my beer. “She overheard us talking about her.”
I hate saying the wordus. But I was complicit, wasn’t I? Bliss took my silence as permission. Iallowedit, and who does that to someone they love? Just because they weren’t supposed to hear it.
